Bananas and Pillows
by Legend96
Summary: "She's gotten used to everything he's thrown at her, whether it be from behind a door, above her, or just plain out of nowhere and into her face - " John and Rose work hard at besting the other. Not one of them seems to really "win." John/Rose fluff drabble thing.


**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Like, nothing. At all. It's easy to understand.**

Rose waits quietly. She can feel the weapons in her hands gaining weight, and somehow they were gaining heat; or maybe it was just from her anticipatory feelings; perhaps it was how badly she wanted them out of her hands. But she couldn't exactly drop them just yet. She was in hiding, resting behind a corner, listening for footsteps that were unmistakably her _target's_ -

And - aha. There he comes. Slightly heavy footfalls, their weight lessened by his airy aspect. He uses the wind as a cushion when he knows she might be waiting for him. This is neither of their first rodeos. She's gotten used to everything he's thrown at her, whether it be from behind a door, above her, or just plain out of nowhere and _into her face_, she's become ready for it. Granted, he has as well, but this time she's prepared for his readiness, hence the second weapon.

She's got the first in her supposedly "weaker" hand, just to confuse him. She's passed herself off as right handed and really bad with coordination in her left. She's ambidextrous and she's staked everything on this little (actually rather big and well planned) part of their games.

He pauses when he gets to the corner, listening and waiting. Rose knows he's listening for her breath, but he won't hear it. She's good at holding it and even better at breathing as softly as she could; she had, after all, been around the block when it comes to sneaking around people before. And she's had tougher, skinnier, less bulky and tall opponents before.

Satisfied, he rounds the corner. Rose waits a few moments, waits for him a little longer, waits for him to pass her before she says, "You should really look where you're going, John." He turns, almost quicker than what she anticipated, but his next few reflexes are not enough. Rose throws the pillow in her right hand into his gut and he sort of doubles over, more out of shock than pain.

And then the pie, made of cream, bananas, and whipped cream is smothered all over his face.

It doesn't really help John at all that when he grabbed the pillow and clutched it to his abdomen, he sort of let it burst, and goose feathers flew out of it.

The pie tin clatters to the floor. After that there's silence.

He's covered in sickly sweet desert, and the feathers are starting to fall from their place in the air, and some of them land in the whipped cream. He looks like a giant feather monster, and Rose lets the victory of the moment get to her in a moment of pride.

"It seems," she says, and she brushes a few of the feathers off of her own shoulders, "that I've won this round."

John breathes out of his mouth and a few feathers displace themselves, only to settle elsewhere on his neck (and the pie is beginning to seep down to the collar of his shirt so some of them land there as well). And he grins.

"Are you sure, Rose? Are you very sure?"

Rose realizes too late, _much too late_, that she hasn't won this round. John's hand snaps out and grabs at her shoulder, bringing her body to his, and she lets out a very undignified shriek as his mouth lands on hers and his arms twine around her waste, trapping her to him. His lips taste of bananas and when she manages to pull back, she spits a feather from her mouth, and she's pretty sure she's covered in pie now, too.

But she's grinning, and he's grinning, and she reaches up to pull his glasses off his face. He squints at her but at least his eyes aren't obscured anymore, and then she wipes off his mouth. "John," she says. His grin widens.

"I still believe I won." And she grabs him by the cheeks (pie be damned) and pulls him back down to her level, lips landing on lips.

(They stop when they each choke on a feather. John gives Rose a pointed look. Rose says, "_You're_ the one who had to squeeze-kill the poor pillow.")

**AN: I was _supposed_ to have this up here_ yesterday_, but then I got a buttload (and when I say buttload I mean twenty one questions that each had to be answered with at LEAST one paragraph) of AP World History homework and I never got the chance to.**

**But!**

**I have finished the AP World History homework I received today early and so I'm posting it now. **

**Enjoy~**


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